


King of the Damned

by theonlymoosewhoeatssalad



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Alternate Universe, Corruption, Eventual Altmal, Eventual Death, Eventual Romance, Growing Up, Kings & Queens, M/M, Novice Altaïr, Thief, Violence, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-04-16 10:51:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4622583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theonlymoosewhoeatssalad/pseuds/theonlymoosewhoeatssalad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Malik was smart for a ten year old. He was smart for living on the streets, but he was like the living dead. How he survived, he had no idea. Growing up stealing food and other necessities in a corrupt, failing kingdom, he has to find a way to prove that he can make his life better if he tried hard enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this as an idea for years. I decided to make it, even though I have other fics I should be finishing up. I'm gonna try not to rush this one too much, considering how I want it to go.

Malik was smart for a ten year old. Many people often told him this. They would tell him his dead eyed stare would stop adults in their track. That he was like the living dead. Most of the civilians said he shouldn’t still be alive. Often he agreed with them. He should have died a long time ago, he thinks. He hated living in this city.

Everything about the Kingdom of Siketh was shit, but worse than that was his city. He lived in Halkrumn, the capital city of Siketh. Halkrumn was run down, covered in dust from the sandstorms and heavy with the scent of poverty. The buildings were crumbling at best and just plain gone at worst. Malik hated every little crevice and pebble in the city. 

People thought they deserved this. They liked their desert lands. They liked their sand based bricks. It was all mud beneath Malik’s bloody bare feet. His feet bled from the stone as he ran through the market with a stolen apple and a loaf of bread. The sand ground its way up into his cuts, but he didn’t care. He could barely feel it over the ache in his belly. The pain of his feet was nothing compared to the hunger he felt. The hunger was constant.

He paid no mind to the throngs of people he pushed through, not to the shattering of crates or pots, not even to the howls of the guards. He was losing them. They were getting stuck in between people who refused to budge. They only did this because they had more than enough of just being shoved aside. The only people to ever even move for guards in these times were children, the sickly, or the elderly. 

Malik turned a sharp corner and sprinted for the crack in the wall that led to his hole. He however was not expecting someone else to be able to squeeze through the thin crack and yet he was proven wrong by running smack into the chest of a boy only a few years his senior. 

The boy wore white robes that didn’t look quite as stained as they probably should have been considering in this city, Malik had only seen clean clothes on the very rich nobles that lived much closer to the castle, with a red sash across his waist. The boy had a cowl over his face, but still Malik sneered at him and pushed past him to squeeze through the crack. 

He didn’t bother to see if the boy followed him. Malik simply meandered his way to his hole. It was dug out under an abandoned hut. It was probably one of the oldest building in the city. It was a small square that was missing two walls and a roof. He had dug out a little den that he could easily curl himself in. He tore into the loaf of bread first. It was soft of his teeth, some of which missing for various reasons. 

Despite being caked in dust and blood and sweat, Malik priding himself on his clean teeth. His reasons being that he wouldn’t be able to tear into food effectively if they were to rot in his mouth or fall out permanently. 

The missing ones had either fallen out (he had heard that children normally lost teeth when the adult ones started to come in) and others were knocked out from fights with older kids who tried to take food from him. Malik simply didn’t worry about the missing teeth and kept his remaining teeth as healthy as he could. His hair stood matted and dark on his head, practically black eyes to make even adults stagger in fear. 

The bread felt slightly stale against his tongue, but he wolfed it down anyway. Malik twirled the apple around in his hand as he chewed on a chunk of bread he had ripped off with his teeth. It was red fading into yellow. He’d seen these only in the rich people food stalls. He wondered how a market this far on the east side get their hands on these kinds of apples. He stiffened and shoved the apple behind him into a small hole that was dug out to hid his spoils as a shadow passed by the den entry quickly. He slowly crawled out, leaving the bread behind. 

The boy in the white robes from before barreled on, running much faster than Malik knew any guards could run. The red sash billowed behind him as he ran and Malik squinted until he realized that it was not the only thing that was red on the boy. As the older boy hustled his way up a wall, Malik ran over to see what the red staining the once white robes. It was dark and spattered all along his sleeves and his cowl. Malik blinked, realizing it was blood just as the boy disappeared over the house and on to the roof tops. 

He slowly walked to his den and crawled back in. He picked up the rest of the loaf and thought about how much his feet were throbbing. Running to the point of bleeding usually caused them to throb. He thought nothing about the blood on the older boy’s robes. It was natural on this district to get into fights and come out bloody. 

Malik stuffed the last of the bread into his mouth. He curled his body against the back of the den to keep himself out of the setting sun and closed his eyes. He woke with a start when he heard soft, quiet steps deep into the night. He peeked his head out of the den only to be greeted with the sight of what looked like something bundled into a cloth.

A good ten minutes went by, Malik looking for anything that meant this small bundle was dangerous. When he found nothing other than the bundle, he stared at it. Tentatively, he reached out with dirty fingers and pulled the cloth toward him. He unwrapped it to find a couple different kinds of cheeses and more apples. He glowered down at the food before sniffing it. The cheese was terribly pungent, but he didn’t think it meant it was poisoned. Malik pulled a small piece off of one chunk and put it in his mouth. He blinked curiously when he didn’t taste anything. 

Logically, he wrapped it back up and crawled into his den to hide it with his other apple. He peeked back out of his den just in time to catch a white thing disappear on the roof that was directly in front of his den. Malik tilted his head, eyes narrowing. Whatever it had been, he wanted nothing to do with it. He pulled himself back into the small hole and curled up again.

When Malik opened his eyes hours later, he saw the morning sunshine first. He crawled his way out of the den and stretched his aching body. He looked down at his feet which had stopped bleeding and were now just a dull throb. He shivered and rubbed some warmth into his arms. The cons of living as a street rat in the middle of a desert city was that it was blistering hot in the day and cold enough to be uncomfortable at night.

The first thing he decided he should do was steal himself a blanket. He used to have one, when he needed to keep his little brother alive. But then Kadar had died. One day while Malik had been out to steal food, his little brother had a seizure and had ended up choking to death. Malik had wrapped his baby brother in their only blanket and buried him by the tree they had always frequented. Kadar had been four when he died. 

Malik shook his head free of the thoughts of his baby brother. He slipped into the den to grab the apple he stole and a chunk of cheese from the cloth. He stuffed the cheese in his mouth first and still he tasted nothing. Once the cheese was finished, he munched on the apple, which only had a slight taste, until all that was left was the core. He tossed it as far as he could from his den. He sat in the sun for a bit longer before he got up and made his way to the crack in the wall. 

The streets were bustling, but it was not quite as crowded as it would be if it were any later. Malik made his way through the groups of people, darting his gaze around as he looked for anything that looked like something he could use as a blanket. He moved into an alleyway and spotted a window open. He stared at it before looking around to see if anyone was looking before he hopped inside.

The room was large with what looked like brick walls. It was one of the nicer houses. Malik silently made his way towards one of the rooms in search of something no one would particularly miss. He spotted it just as he heard voices in the other side of the house. He quickly grabbed the blanket with a few tears and holes in it before dashing the way he came. He slipped on the window sill and fell face first into the dirt. Rolling, he pulled himself up and scampered through the alleyways until he found his wall and squeezed through. 

Malik stuffed his new blanket in his den and situated it until it was covering the dirt bottom. He tilted his head in thought and experimentally rolled himself in the blanket. Quietly nodding to himself, he unrolled himself and lounged back, rubbing his stomach. With his new found possession and a small bundle of food, he thought his life was probably getting a bit better. 

With a small content sigh, he reached for a small amount of cheese. He came the decision that he would make his little hiding hole deeper so he could store more food in it. Malik chewed the cheese, waiting for a taste to fill his mouth. When none did, he wondered how something so smelly could not taste like anything. He stared out at the light just outside his den. It was about midday and he hadn’t done much for the day besides stealing a ruined blanket. 

A small beetle moved it’s way across the mouth of the den. Malik watched with a blank stare. He wondered if his life was that also of a beetle. Finding food, surviving and seeing if they made it to the next day. He supposed to nobles he was indeed a bug. However, he did not feel worthless, nor did he feel unique. He simply thought he was Malik. Same old Malik, who was capable now of going into others’ houses and stealing things. 

He started a bit when he saw feet walk toward his little den opening. He clenched his jaw tightly shut, staring hard at the brown boots. Suddenly, the person the feet belonged to crouched and he glared hard. A cowl had come into view, white once again, but Malik could see the slight stains left from blood. Gold eyes peered at him from the shadow the cowl cast over his face, about as empty as his stomach usually felt. A hand reached out with another bundle of cloth in it. It looked a bit bigger. 

“Did you finish the last one?” he asked, though he was young and Malik could pick out the youth in his voice, it was smooth and low. In no way was the voice soft however. The older boy waited patiently for an answer until Malik shook his head softly. “Eat this before you finish the other one. This one has some meat.” 

Malik reached out and snatched it from the boy, eyes still boring into the other’s. He expected the boy to drag him out, to beat him, but he didn’t. He crouched there with his head tilted just enough to watch him as he slowly unwrapped the bundle and stare at the cooked meat. Malik grabbed a piece and stuck it in his mouth. He tore at it with the teeth he had with all his might before he chewed. He looked up at the boy who continued to watch. Malik grabbed another piece after putting the rest of the one he had chewed on in his mouth and held the new piece out for the boy. 

The older boy looked at it before taking it silently. They sat there quietly as they ate, Malik eventually pulling out the other wrapped bundle and crawling out of the den to share his cheese and apples with the older boy. After they enjoyed the meal, Malik felt too full to stand. He crawled lazily to his den to stuff the bundles into his hiding hole. The older boy stood.

“I’m leaving,” he stated. Malik poked his head out to look at him. 

“Thank you,” Malik croaked softly at him. The older boy nodded and walked away. Malik was left to wonder why he wasn’t going to stay, but he realized that the boy had been way too big to fit into his little den. He laid back on the blanket and stared up at the top of the den with a blank stare. 

His sleep wasn’t disturbed that night. He slept with the blanket over him, providing comfort in the cold dark and a full belly that wasn’t nagging at him to feed him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a long time. A lot has happened recently and this isnt nearly as long as it should be, but I hope you all like it!

There was a lot wrong with the kingdom in which only four hundred people could live comfortably. Happy in their insipid little worlds. The other eight thousand squabble, fighting to survive. Malik could see it. All of it. He swore one day when he was younger that things as they are now would change. He realized now that only direct action must be taken for change to happen. People were too weak to change, to band together for the sake of all others. It was never more than their own selfish gain, which never lead people to believe things even could change or even that things needed to change. 

Even at ten, Malik could see everyone who fought to live. These people were the very few who cared more than about themselves. These few were special. Malik could never find it within himself to be that sort of person. Not yet. He had to survive first. However, he had always held the childish dream that he would be the one to change the way things were in this kingdom. He hated with every fiber that was the lucky four hundred who were capable of of living without hunger. He hated them so. They deserved it in his mind. Deserved his hate and anger. Who else could he blame if not them? He had never experienced life without being hungry. He would not wish it upon even his worst enemy.

Malik kept his head down most times when he was in the bustling marketplace crowds. He knew if he lifted his head, he would see things he disliked. Most things that he saw was people who were shoeless, wearing rags rather than clothes, sunken faces, eyes dead to everything they saw, but the worst was the leering faces of people who saw the weakness. These faces were common, so common that Malik refused to think of them. They were everywhere. He hated those faces. People were starving and defeated, yet the people with leers could live with taking from those who had nothing left to give. Malik always counted himself lucky to never had been touched by those leering people. 

He walked slowly walked in and out of the crowd. Each time he made his way close to a food stall, his hand would reach out and he would disappear back into the crowd before anyone saw him. He was getting very good at doing this. So good, in fact, he had never been caught. Today was no different. He kept his food in a small parcel at his makeshift belt. So far he’d gotten part of a loaf of bread, three apples, a slice of raw steak and a whole fish. The fish didn’t smell nearly as fresh as it could have been, but Malik was not picky when it came to food. 

It was hot. Sweltering. Malik never bothered to notice however. It had always been hot in in Halkrumn. He returned to his hideout when the crowds thinned out. There wasn’t much he had, but what he had, he cherished. He sat near his den, pulling the gathered the sticks he could find to make a fire. He cooked both the fish and the steak together. He couldn’t wait or they would rot if he did. He hated the fish and steak in silence.

Malik thought of the older boy whom had shown him the only kindness than he’d ever been given. It had been many sols since then. He wondered if it had been longers. Weeks? Months, even? It felt so long ago. He was sure it had probably been even longer than he realized. He felt older than he was when he met the boy. The boy hadn’t come back either. 

Food didn’t even seem like such a hard thing to come acquire anymore. Not since that boy showed him how easy it was to get. Of course, Malik was never physically shown. He simply improved what he already knew about stealing by watching the way the older boy moved through the crowds. Malik had figured out the best way to stay hidden was to hide in plain sight, not moving too quickly and not staying too close to the stalls. He also learned to hide his little den entrance. 

Chewing was also not as hard as it used to be. When he poked at his mouth, he found it had been because his adult teeth were finally growing into the spaces that were missing. This was probably the greatest thing to happen to him since that guy. Malik moved the boards covering the entrance to his den and crawled inside. He slid the boards back into place and crawled his way to his blanket. He stuffed the rest of the food in the hole he had made.

Wrapping himself in the blanket, he watched as sunlight trickled through the boards. How was he to spend the rest of his day if there was nothing to do without having money? He sighed and curled his knees to his chest to hug them. There was truly nothing he could do to entertain himself. With food not being too hard to steal, he found rather tired of not having other children to play with. He deeply missed his younger brother. Kadar had always been able to make up games. He’d still kept his childlike wonder. Malik had tried very hard to allow Kadar to keep it. 

When the light faded, Malik lowered himself down. He needed rest more than anything else. Sometimes, he found his brain didn’t allow him into the comforting hands of sleep. Tonight happened to be not one of those nights. He slept easily. 

The next morning, he was back in the marketplace with another full parcel of food. He stopped walking when he spotted something that caught his interest more than food. A stall of books and other wares were laid out in front of him was unattended. Malik didn’t know how to read. It seemed pointless to want and yet, he wanted a book so badly, he couldn’t stop himself from grabbing one and looking through it. No one stopped him. No one paid him any notice. No merchant to come out to scold him. So he took it. Whatever it was in the book, he needed to read it. 

Malik found himself back at his den. He sat against the boards hiding his den and opened the books. The words made no sense to him, seeming only like garbled scribblings from that of a two year old. He stared at the words for a while, hoping they would just magically make sense to him. His brain strained to try to make out what the book was trying to say to him. Did he even know the alphabet? How could he teach himself to read if he didn’t know a thing about literacy? It seemed utterly impossible to even try. Closing the book, he stared at the cover. It was dark blue with silver braids running down the spines. The cover was hard, but covered in some kind of fabric that was soft. 

Malik tried sounding the words out silently. That seemed to work out okay enough. He kept sounding things out until he realized he couldn’t sound anything out right without knowing letters and literacy. Malik slammed the book down next to him as he pondered how to find someone to give him the alphabet so he could learn it. Who, though, was the question. He couldn’t live with this unquenchable thirst that he felt. The thirst to know, to find, to see things in a new way. Somehow, it made it all the more important to find someone who could teach him to read.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I'm writing this out on paper first then putting it on google docs and its so short compared to how many pages I have out on paper.

Days, it had been. He still hadn’t found anyone to at least write the alphabet down for him. It seemed strange though. That something so incredibly simple was so hard to come by. People had laughed at him when he had asked around, some had screamed and on rare occasions he was beaten. Malik groaned softly as he nursed his fresh bruises. It seemed he would have to find more intelligent people to ask. Though the risks were much higher than just a few beatings. He would have to leave the vicinity of his den and that was already dangerous, but going further was putting his life into the hands of crueler people. 

Currently, he was sitting at the closest well he could find with the bucket sitting on the edge, filled with water. He was using a ripped piece of his pants to dip into the water and then press on to his cuts and bruises. Malik didn’t make a sound, no matter how much they stung. He washed the piece of cloth off and dumped the rest of the water on the ground. He didn’t want to pour the soiled water back into the well as he feared spreading diseases. He filled the bucket again and this time put the water into a small, carryable container. He took a small drink and cherished the feeling of his dry throat being rejuvenated. He sat there for a couple more minutes, sipping his container before he refilled it. 

Malik got up and moved away from the well with the intent to wander into the richer district. It almost missed his attention entirely when he had gotten there. The grounds were suddenly harder here, no dirt in sight. Only stones. There was a ton of people walking in fine clothing that Malik had never actually seen before. All were embroidered in gold or silver threads. So much color was shoved into Malik’s face, he could barely put names to all the colors he was seeing. He slowly started backing away from the area because of the looks he was getting. Men with swords started toward him, hands at the hilts. Malik gulped, eyes wide. They came upon him much faster than the guards in the other parts of the city. He stared up at them, frightened.

“What are you doing here?” one of them asked. Malik trembled at the sound of authority in his voice. He stammered out words that made no sense. They reached out to grab him, but a voice calling out stopped them. 

“What are you doing to this young man?” asked a gentleman in rich blue robes. Malik stared at the guards with wide eyes before he looked at the man. 

“Sir, we were just trying to remove this dirty creature so it may not disturb anyone who is out this fine day,” answered the one guard who spoke before. The gentleman scoffed lightly and waved them away. They moved back, but kept a close eye on Malik. The man knelt down to look Malik in the eyes. 

“Did they hurt you?” He asked gently. The boy shook his head in response. “Oh good! Why, you look a mess. Let’s get you cleaned up.” 

Malik took the hand that was offered hesitantly. The man talked and talked as they walked deeper into the district. Further up, Malik could pinpoint the richer of the rich. How weird that they were not all the same. The boy tried his hardest to pay attention to what it was all that the gentleman was saying, but Malik was too busy looking at all the structures around him. He completely stopped listening when they came up close enough to one place that Malik only could assume was a palace compared to the others homes. He slowed to a stop in front of the big metal archway. The gentleman looked down at him curiously. 

“Do you like my home?” the man asked. Malik furrowed his brows at him. Was he insane? This was much too large for just one man. The gentleman laughed at Malik’s expression. “What is your name, boy?” the man continued, as he started up walking again. Malik followed after him slowly.

“Malik. My name is Malik.”

“Malik. I have not properly introduced myself. My name is Abbas Sofian.” Abbas bowed his head when he opened the door for the boy. Malik wandered in, looking around. Everything was big for what seemed to be no reason at all. Could people get up to the ceiling to clean it? What was he even doing here? This was a place he clearly didn’t belong. 

Maids came up to fuss over Abbas while Malik stood there and watched. The man waved them away absently. 

“Don’t bother with me. I want to see this boy bathed and dressed in some proper clothes by dinner.” Malik looked up as hands gently grabbed at him. He was lead through a hall and into a room with a bed and table. The maids stayed with him as he was brought further into the room which had him lead to a room with the first room. There was a strange metal basin which they filled with warm water. He struggled when they tried to get his clothing off. Still, they somehow managed to get him undressed and into the water. He thrashed around as the maids each ran soap through his hair and over his body. The feeling was so foreign, he flinched each time the soap made contact with his skin. It felt soft, but grainy. It also bubbled with friction too, which was even more strange. After the soap came the oils, making his skin feel slimey. What are oils even for? Malik still couldn’t figure out what he was even doing here and everything was being thrust upon him too fast for him to keep track of his questions. The maids left him in the basin to soak for a while. Sitting there, he realized he had never been fully submerged in water, but he found he rather liked it. It seemed to calm his nervous heart. He wouldn’t mind dying currently. It would be a happy death. 

When the maids came back, they held an assortment of different fabrics. They instructed him to stand up and leave the bath carefully (as it was apparently slippery with the oils). He did as he was told. The maids then wrapped him up in one of the thicker fabrics and rubbed him dry with it. Then they shoved him into clothes that were comfortable, yet big all at once. 

“Come, come, little one. The master will have you with him in the dining hall,” said the oldest woman there. They were gentle and kind to him, smiling at him even though he deserved none of it from them. He followed the older woman out back towards the main room. She showed him to another hall, only this one opened up into a grand red room with glittering and brilliant objects. Malik had never seen anything as grand as this. Eventually, his eyes landed on Abbas sitting crossed legged at the table. He looked up upon Malik’s entrance. The boy stared at him for a bit. 

“Ah, Malik! Come, sit with me. We shall feast tonight.” 

Malik was lead to sit next to Abbas by the maids, who then bowed their heads before leaving. Abbas gestured to the drink in front of the boy, but Malik made no move toward it. 

“Wouldn’t you like some wine?” Abbas questioned. The boy narrowed his eyes at him, a bit befuddled. 

“I’m ten…”

“I was drinking wine at six,” the man countered. 

“You are also not poor.”

“Well, you got me there!” Abbas guffawed, a look of something akin to appreciation alight in his eyes. “You’re very well spoken for a man of ten years.” 

“I guess…?” Malik stared at the man beside him blankly. Where was this going?

“I saw you yesterday,” Abbas stated abruptly. The blank staring from the child staring continued. 

“You saw me do what yesterday, Sir Abbas?” Malik asked, tilting his chin up slightly in superiority (not that he actually had it). This caused a gentle laugh to come from the older man. 

“You stole a book. I watched as your eyes sparkled with curiosity. I saw the thirst for knowledge on your face.” Malik shifted uncomfortably. He had thought no one had seen him. “Don’t think me threatening. I only want to help you. Tomorrow, I was thinking you could bring the book here and I will teach you.”

Malik didn’t know what to say or even really what to feel. How was he supposed to reply? What was there to say? It wasn’t like he had asked for this man’s help. 

“Thank you… I’m not sure of how to respond…” Malik muttered, eyes cast down towards the table. The man simply waved his hand in dismissal. That was when the food came out, brought by the maids. A plate was set in front if them both with a strange assortment of food that Malik had never seen before. He couldn't determine what was meat and what wasn't. It didn't seem to matter to Abbas as he started eating right away. It seemed incredibly stupid to eat things without knowing what it was first. Abbas gestured for Malik to start eating. Hesitantly, Malik put something soft and covered in a heavy liquid into his mouth. Abbas seemed to stare at him, watching him eat and waiting for some kind of reaction. 

“How is it?” Abbas eventually prompted. “Does it taste good?” Malik furrowed his brow curiously. Taste? He hadn’t tasted anything in years. 

“I can't taste anything.” This was not new information for Malik, but Abbas seemed floored by the statement. The man stared at him before concern washed across his rough features. 

“You can't taste anything? Can you at least smell it?” Malik shook his head. Were those two senses connected? He assumed that not tasting anything was abnormal if Abbas’ reaction was anything to go by. 

“So you can't taste or smell anything? Interesting. I wonder why that is.” The older man continued eating, though his eyes avoided Malik for a while as he thought. Malik shoveled more food into his mouth, but his eyes never left Abbas. Once their plates were cleaned of food, Abbas gestured for the maids to take the dishes away. 

“Why do you want to help me?” Malik blurted, glaring at Abbas harshly. The man smiled sadly and looked away. That was a strange way to answer.

“My son, Swami, died many Sols ago. You look a lot like him,” Abbas gestured at the boy casually. Malik stared at him with a sort of cynical indifference. This idiotic man was allowing an urchin into his home because he resembled his son? The boy shook his head to get rid of the face he was making and his thoughts. 

“You are foolish. I could have stolen anything while you were not looking,” Malik growled. Abbas turned his gaze back to the boy. There was a hint of not very well hidden amusement in that look that pissed Malik off a smidge. 

“Did you?” Abbas asked gently. Malik shook his head slowly. “Then I don't think you will. Plus it won't be stealing, everything you take will be given freely.” 

Malik stared at him some more. Just like that, he'd somehow obtained a teacher. What was this life of his? 

“Remember to bring that book!” Abbas held a hand up to keep Malik from opening his mouth. “I would like it if you stayed here with me while you learn.” 

“No.” 

“Why not?” the rich man asked, caught off guard by the quick rejection. 

“I’m not going to exploit you. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Malik replied swiftly, standing from his seat next to Abbas. The older man stood also. 

“Alright, if this is what you prefer. I won't argue.” Abbas waved his maids over. He whispered to them for a moment and then they left to do whatever he had told them to do. A large man entered the room and Malik was lead to the door he had entered through by more maids that he hadn't heard enter. Abbas explained how his personal guard, the big man, was going to walk him from the district. He bowed and thanked the boy for the company before disappearing into one of the many door in the room. 

Malik allowed himself to be ushered out of the grand hall and back to the room he had been bathed. His clothes were folded neatly on the bed. The maids left him to change on his own. When he figured out how to even get out of the soft robes he was wearing for dinner, he slipped back into his rags. As he left the room, he was met with the bug man. Upon closer inspection, he noticed the one dead eye on the right side of the man’s face. His one good eye glared down at him, but he was gentle when he large hand wrapped around Malik’s upper arm. He was lead out of the large home. The guard dropped him off where the hard stone turned back into dirt. He nodded at the boy and Malik nodded back. He was kept an eye on as he walked back into the poor district. 

As he disappeared out of sight from the guard, he didn't look back. He knew the big man was making sure he made it safely out of the area. Weird. Did all rich people have servants who cared about others? Malik walked until he was back at his hole. He moved the boards to crawl inside before moving them back. He wrapped himself in his blanket and wondered if he had just had a heat stroke delusion. He open his book for a moment. Had that been a delusion, he wouldn't have been so full. His stomach hadn't ever felt this full before. He honestly expected himself to throw up soon. It had to have been real. He had someone to teach him to read and write. He smiled to himself. Things were starting to look up in his bleak future.


End file.
